


Manservant

by citrinesunset



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, D/s, M/M, Service Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 01:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/947243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrinesunset/pseuds/citrinesunset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto thought that if he'd been born in an earlier time, he would have liked to be a manservant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Manservant

**Author's Note:**

> Written for kink_bingo 2010, for the "Domestic/tradesman kink" square.

Ianto thought that if he'd been born in an earlier time, he would have liked to be a manservant.

That used to unsettle him. Since he was young, he'd made effort to hide where he came from, telling small lies that made his working-class upbringing more glamorous. At twenty-two, he'd thought that donning a suit he couldn't actually afford and working in a glass-plated skyscraper instead of a Debenhams meant he'd made it.

And yet here he was, wanting to be somebody's servant.

It was actually a comfort when he realized it was just something he got off on.

Of course, he wasn't getting off, exactly. Not while fulfilling his duties, at least. Sometimes he thought about taking out his cock and wanking, but if Jack caught him doing that when he was supposed to be polishing Jack's boots or folding his socks. . .well, it would not look good. And Ianto was all about pleasing.

That was how Jack put it. He would say, "You like to be useful" or "You like to take care of people."

Jack understood. He made it much simpler than it was in Ianto's head.

Ianto tried very hard to be useful. Tonight, that meant repairing a tear in Jack's coat. He'd had noticed it earlier when he was helping Jack out of his coat. Jack had said it could wait until tomorrow, but Ianto wouldn't have that. It was nothing short of neglectful, and Ianto knew he'd have trouble going to sleep knowing it wasn't done yet.

What if Jack needed his coat first thing in the morning?

Down in Jack's quarters, Ianto got out the small sewing kit, turned the bedside lamp up high, and sat on Jack's bed with the coat draped over his lap like a blanket.

It could get tricky, pushing the needle through the thick wool. The blunt end of the needle dug into his thumb, and he knew he'd be tender for a while afterward. He hadn't grown thick enough calluses yet.

But once Ianto got into a rhythm, it was pleasing, meditative work, easy enough to lose himself in but not boring, either. It was nice to handle Jack's coat, and take care of it. He'd done a lot of small repairs like this. His own sewing blended in so well that even Jack had trouble telling which stitching was new.

Ianto was finishing up when Jack came down the ladder.

"There you are," Jack said. Looking at the coat, he added, "Thanks."

"My pleasure, sir." He closed the sewing kit and got up.

"No need to be formal," Jack said. But he smiled, and Ianto knew he didn't really mind. Jack could be formal, sometimes, but when he wasn't, he was still good at humoring Ianto.

Even if they didn't acknowledge it, they both knew everything Ianto did was as much for himself as it was for Jack. Ianto was the one with the service kink, after all.

Ianto went to put the coat away. When he returned, Jack was sitting on the bed, untying his boots. Without hesitation, Ianto got on his knees at Jack's feet. Jack moved his hands out of the way, putting them at his sides, and let Ianto remove his boots.

Ianto set them at the foot of the bed, and peeled the socks off Jack's feet. Lifting one foot, Ianto started to massage the sole with his thumbs.

Jack smiled and rubbed Ianto's hair.

"Good boy," he said in a deep, humming voice. "You take such good care of me."

Jack was always tired at the end of the day. He never showed it, however, until the others went home and he was alone. Ianto sensed that Jack was reserved even around him. Sometimes he came in Jack's office late at night to find him sitting at his desk with a furrowed brow and far-off stare, which he shook off as soon as he saw Ianto.

Ianto was tired too, of course. Once things were quiet and the adrenaline wore off, it was hard to move and far too easy to think. The longer he was with Torchwood, the more things filled his head that he didn't want to dwell on.

It was good to keep busy. He gently set Jack's foot down and started on the other. Jack sighed and closed his eyes. He had a small smile on his lips.

When Ianto had finished with both feet, Jack said, "Kiss them, and come to bed."

Wordlessly, Ianto kissed the tops of Jack's feet, and stood. They got undressed, and Ianto gathered their clothes up while Jack climbed into bed.

Then he climbed into the space Jack saved for him.

 

* * *

 

Ianto didn't _really_ want to be a servant.

For one thing, he knew that if he were a 'real' servant, his master probably wouldn't fuck him.

He also knew that as much as he loved being useful, he hated being used. Having Owen try to bully him into cleaning the autopsy bay did not give him a hard on. Quite the opposite, really.

So maybe it was just a fantasy thing, or just a Jack thing. There were things Ianto liked, and things he only liked with Jack. He hadn't been around long enough to know the difference.

But it didn't really matter.

What mattered was that all of Jack's shirts were dirty, and Ianto was a day late on the laundry. His own laundry was building up, too. He spent so much time at the Hub these days that it accumulated there rather than at his flat.

They had a washer and dryer downstairs, in a room by the communal showers. Practical, considering how often their clothes got dirty on missions.

Ianto glanced at his watch while he pressed Jack's shirts. Ironing could be a peaceful job, much like mending, but this morning he was in a rush. Luckily for him and Jack, he'd gotten quite good at quick ironing.

What Jack didn't know was that Ianto had never even owned an iron until he got a job at Canary Wharf. Until then, he hadn't bothered with wrinkles. The first time he'd tried to press one of his own shirts, he'd burned his hand.

Domesticity never came easy to him. Another reason, maybe, why he wouldn't really make a good servant. He could still try.

Jack was just getting up when Ianto came in with an armload of clean clothes.

"You're up early," Jack said. He always sounded surprised when Ianto got up earlier than he did. He seemed to think he was up earlier than everyone.

Ianto hung the shirts in Jack's wardrobe. Jack pulled one out and examined it closely, as though inspecting it for wrinkles. Satisfied, he laid it on the bed.

"I'm going to go take a shower," he said.

Ianto knew what to do. He collected the shirt and all the other clothes Jack would need and met him in the shower room. When Jack finished bathing, he helped him towel off and dressed him.

He buttoned Jack's shirt with nimble, practiced fingers. He could feel Jack's chest rise and fall under his hands.

"Thank you," Jack said.

Like anyone entitled to special treatment, Jack never gushed about the things Ianto did for him. It was expected, something that was built into their relationship. Yet, he was never ungrateful. Maybe that was what made it worthwhile.

Jack turned to leave the showers. Pausing, he turned and said, "By the way. I'd like my favorite cufflinks polished when you have time. No hurry."

"Of course, sir. I'll get right on it."  



End file.
